


"Madam Secretary"

by mmacy



Category: Madam Secretary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mmacy/pseuds/mmacy
Summary: He never thought he'd call her by her title while in private, while alone, just the two of them, ever again... he was wrong.
Relationships: Elizabeth McCord/Blake Moran
Comments: 13
Kudos: 7





	"Madam Secretary"

“Madam Secretary”

~MS~

He’d known it had been a bad idea from the beginning, had been warned from numerous people that he’d be the one left in the dust, the one pushed out of the picture— it would start subtly, a transfer to a different floor, maybe even a different department. She’d mumble off reasons one ordinary afternoon, maybe giving a rather convincing explanation concerning the preservation of ethics within their professional relationship, but there was no ethical fix to banging your assistant, no morals left to salvage, not after the last seven months they’d shared together, certainly not after that trip to Europe, just the two of them. Isn’t that when it began? Where it began? On the desk tucked away in her personal office, or maybe it had been when she’d pushed him up against the door, or when she’d leaned into him, hand wandering, hand teasing, over the ever present bulge in his pants, as they flew over the Atlantic. 

It was her terms… The way in which they chose to carry on. The way in which she chose to carry on, where she chose to carry on— usually on the seventh floor, locked away in the big corner office, oblivious to everything, everyone, everyone but her… Never at a hotel. There were too many people, too many witnesses, too many curious eyes. Never at a hotel, unless of course it was for work, work and then play, but then again it all seemed like play to her these days— the way she strutted around the office in those sheer tops, black bra peeking through, the black, sometimes navy, that was stark against her skin, the one he’d told her instantly turned his brain to mush, fogged with all thoughts of her, of them, of him pressing her up against the bathroom door, of him sitting her atop the vanity, and letting her take what she wants. 

When did she choose to carry on? At first it was the late nights, the late nights that followed the hard days on the Hill, the hours long briefings at the White House. And when Henry took that job with DIA, sometimes being gone for days, it became more frequent. She made a habit of showing up on his doorstep, well past dark, well past reasonable thinking, well past ready for what she wants. 

There was no ethical fix, just a logical one, one made far too often in DC— Nadine would’ve been the prime example if Marsh hadn’t have gone down in that plane… Pushed to the side, maybe even exiled from the city completely, so he could run his race, fight for his chance at the big Resolute desk, wife by his side as the camera flashed.

He didn’t think she was capable of doing the same… He knew her better than that, better than the others, better than them. At least that’s what he told himself when he’d first heard the mumblings, reminding himself that she’d tell him in due time, filing the papers quickly and quietly. 

He stands in front of the sofa, bottle of water clenched in his right hand, when she finally comes through the office door. There’s a smirk on her face, never just a smile, as she stalks towards him.

“I was surprised when my car took my here instead of home.” She says as she snatches the bottle from his hand, unscrewing the cap, and bringing it to her lips. She gulps down about three or four mouthfuls before she passes it back. And then she turns, walking towards the rack of dresses that sits just in front of her desk. “You didn’t want to meet at the house?” 

He watches as her hand brushes against the dresses, fingers running through the blue taffeta, and then the black silk with the lace bodice. 

“I had a hunch your meeting would go long.” He swallows. “Thought I’d save you the time.” 

It’s a lie, a fairly believable one because her meeting did in fact go over. He’d already heard. He’d heard before then, before she’d even left the Truman building for her last scheduled meeting of the day. 

She throws a look over her shoulder. “Aren’t you ever so thoughtful.” He can hear it in her voice, dripping through her words… the mock, the bone being dangled in front of his face, the temptation that he could only occasionally give in to, but it could never, would never be his… after all, it was never his to have. 

She’s pushing hangers to the side now, metal scraping against metal, before she lands on the silver chiffon. She grabs it at the waist, spreading it out in the air to glimpse at the skirt before she plucks the hanger from the rack, and turns, crossing the room, and lays the dress over the chair he’d pulled up next to him— she picked the strapless one. 

She moves to the middle of the room, looking around aimlessly for a moment before her fingers go to the top of her blouse, and she begins pushing buttons through tiny holes. 

“You wouldn’t believe how much Senator Wilson talks about his cocker spaniel.” She shrugs out of the button down. “You should have seen Russell’s face when he pulled out pictures.” 

She smiles as her hands work on balling up the material of her silk shirt, and then she throws it towards him— it hit’s smack dab in the middle of his chest, and luckily his mind works fast and his fingers catch it before it falls to the ground. But instead of moving to the closet to hang it up, preventing wrinkles, preventing a trip to the dry cleaners, he tosses it onto the sofa before turning back towards her. 

“Speaking of Russell, he says there’s a weekend being planned away at Camp David. The president, a few donors.” She kicks off her heels. “He asked me to tag along.”

“Why?” He asks. 

He knows why… meeting the donors, wooing the donors, teeing up the donors to buy into her, buy into her campaign. If it were possible, grooming her, priming her to be what they wanted. He didn’t think it was possible, her falling in line, but then again, anything seemed possible these days.

She turns, back towards him, and— “Just a typical lunch in.” She laughs that throaty laugh, the one that causes him to twitch in his pants. “Well as typical as you can get with you know the whole being the president thing.” 

She’s wiggling out of her skirt now— thumbs hooked under the waistband and pulling down, down, down… she’s teasing him, wearing the maroon underwear he likes so much, if it could even be classified as such… he nearly groans. 

She turns. “I thought you may like to join me.” Her eyes meet his, and he wants to melt. “You’d be there in a professional capacity, but once all the work is done…” She shrugs one shoulder as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. 

And then her hand disappears behind her back, reaching up, seeming to struggle. She steps up to him, turns, pulling her hair to the side, up off her neck. 

His hands itch to touch her, fingers twitching with want, but earlier, when he’d heard, he’d made up his mind.

She shoots a glance over her shoulder when he doesn’t move. “Would you?” 

He reaches up and undoes the clasp on her bra, letting his fingers only linger for half a second more before pulling away. 

She turns back, and they’re nearly chest to chest.

She arches an eyebrow as she pulls the straps down off her arms, and then tosses it onto the coffee table. 

His eyes stay on hers as she steps closer, tilting her head that one way she does when she’s concerned, sometimes a little curious. 

“You’re on edge.” She says as her palm runs up his chest. “What’s wrong?” She asks. She reaches her other hand out, this time towards his cheek, but he cowers away. 

“You should get dressed.” 

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.” She reminds, but he doesn’t need the reminder. 

His eyes drift down to her breasts, and his mind wanders, asking himself if one more time, one more night, would really hurt, but he’s reminded of the words whispered to him earlier.

She reaches out again, and this time he takes a step back out of her reach, jaw clenching. “Elizabeth.” He warns. 

He sees her throat bobble as she swallows, and he can’t help but wonder if she’s ever been turned away, turned down before. 

He moves, grabbing the dress from the chair before holding it out to her. 

She takes it from his grasp— it’s not lost on him when she lets her fingers brush against his. 

“What’s going on?” She whispers as she steps into the dress. She pulls it up, fiddling a bit extra with the top as she situates the material over her breasts, and then she turns, back to him. 

Wordlessly, he steps towards her, and pulls the zipper up. 

She turns back, eyes searching, eyes wanting, sucking him in… or at least trying to. 

He swallows. “I heard Henry will be accompanying you tonight.” 

He may be imagining it, but he swears he can see a hint of pink rise in her cheeks— he doesn’t have to imagine the way she ducks her head. 

“It’s only a formality. Once the divorce—”

“I also heard he’d moved back in.” 

He watches as her eyes flutter closed, and in that moment, he needs no more. He knows. He knows and—

“Blake.” She breathes. 

Her gaze meets his, as she steps forwards, towards him, but he side steps her. 

“Your black heels are in the closet.” He tells her as he makes for the door. “And the necklace with the sapphires is on the bathroom counter.” His hand freezes on the handle. “I advise you be ready in five minutes Madam Secretary.” He doesn’t even give her a glance over the shoulder before he pushes through the door.

He looked forward to mingling around the ballroom, sharing a glass or two of champagne with the rest of the senior staff, instead of being on her arm… he’d deal with the repercussions tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Elizabeth as manipulative? I can see it.
> 
> Definitely not my best work, but I don't let things sit in my computer... (I may add a few chaps to this one, making it a series)
> 
> I am trying desperately to finish my multi chap (trying to crank out chapters before I start back with classes), but once that is complete I plan on getting back to these to for a more... thought out story. 
> 
> I also think I'm going to post 'the papers' on ffn tomorrow... wish me luck


End file.
